


Supplication

by vakarians_girl



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Shower Sex, oh no a supernatural got goo on you let me wash it off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarians_girl/pseuds/vakarians_girl
Summary: What should be an easy mission is anything but.
Relationships: Detective/A du Mortain, Female Detective/Adam du Mortain, Niamh O'Driscoll/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Supplication

The mission…hadn’t gone according to plan. At all. But for once, Niamh wasn’t even thinking of complaining about it. It had started with a frantic call from a hiker about having seen _something_ in the woods. Niamh knew that the Agency had been alerted even before she had left the office, but she texted Adam anyway, on a whim.

_Got a call. Some sort of supernatural spotted by a hiker. Agency might already know, but in case._ She shoved the phone down into her pocket as she hurried to the car, struggling a bit with the door as always. As she flopped down onto the seat, her eyes caught on the bright yellow stuffed duck sitting in the rear window. Memories of the carnival, of Adam shoving the duck into her hands, of everything that had passed between them crossed through her head, and she blushed. Perhaps the text hadn’t just been a momentary whim. The phone in her pocket buzzed, and she quickly pulled it out, along with her keys.

_Already on my way. Agency will be monitoring, but its just us._ The words made her heart skip in her chest, and she had to reread the message. Just them. The blush returned, in full force, and she couldn’t help herself but pull down the mirror overhead to check herself. Niamh wasn’t sure what she was expecting though, she was still the same five feet, two-and-a-half inches of freckles and mousey brown hair, though she did think she looked nice and at least a little summery today. As always, there were more than a few strands of hair escaping from her ponytail, and on impulse she pulled it down and tied it back up in a bun instead. With one last glance at herself, and a smoothing down of the pale green blouse she wore, Niamh snapped the mirror up and tried to push away the nervous thoughts that cluttered her mind.

The drive was short, or at least, it seemed that way to Niamh. Once she had put her keys in the ignition, autopilot mostly took over. The hiking trail that had been the subject of the call was one she frequented, and she’d even gone there with Morgan a few times, when the agent finally warmed up to her. The hatchback slid easily into a spot in the shade of a pine tree, and when Niamh stepped out of the car, she saw that Adam was waiting for her.

Ignoring the acrobatic act that her stomach was now performing, Niamh swallowed and walked forward, pressing the lock button on her fob before dropping the car keys back into her pocket.

“At least there’s nice weather for this,” she remarked by way of greeting, though she grimaced slightly at how breathy her voice was. Adam looked her up and down briefly, in that same way of his that always made her limbs weak, and she wanted to glance down at herself. Was there mud on her white trainers? A stain on her jeans? She gave in to temptation and looked down, but saw nothing out of order. Relief flooded through her as she looked back up, only to find Adam still staring at her.

Her confused expression must have startled him, because he cleared his throat and nodded his head, jerking his glance away towards the trees.

“Indeed.” She saw him swallow. Could it be that he was as affected by her as she was by him? But she quickly shook off that thought as Adam began walking toward the hiking trail.

“They said it was by mile marker two, I’m sorry it’s that far in. There’s no way to get the car—” Before she had finished speaking, Adam had turned back to face her, jaw set, and then practically yanked her into his arms. Shock turned her words to a squeak, but just as she clocked what was happening, the world blurred, and she realized that Adam was running. Running faster than should have been possible. Only seconds passed before he stopped and the world cleared again, the small wooden post proclaiming ‘mile two’ right next to them.

“You—you just ran two miles?” He also hadn’t set her down yet, and as she hung there, clutching around his neck, she felt nearly every inch of her body pressed against his. The tight cords of muscle in his arms pressed against her back and beneath her knees, his shoulders were sculpted beyond belief, and his chest felt like a marble statue. But even more disarming was just how close their faces were to each other. Niamh could see every pale golden lash of his eyes, she could see the patterns and lines of green within his irises, and when she looked ever so slightly down, she could see the softly parted lips that she had thought about so often.

Adam abruptly set her down, and she cleared her throat, reddening quickly.

“You’re, uh, you’re very f-fast.” _No shit, Sherlock!_ But he chuckled in response, and she looked back just in time to see him look away. “So. Uh. The call. The caller described something big and scaly; said it spit at him?” _Don’t think about how he just picked you up like you weighed nothing, O’Driscoll. Don’t think about it, don’t think—_

“We’ve been getting reports of a lone kanima in the area, so that’s most likely the culprit. But it seems small enough that it shouldn’t be an issue. Sometimes those that come from the Echo World are less…formidable than they might otherwise be.” With Adam all business, Niamh found it easier to concentrate. She nodded, taking in his words. “Are there any cave systems nearby?”

“Hmm? Oh, there’s a small rock formation, not too far from the trail. Do you think it might be there?”

“It’s possible. Do you mind leading the way?” With another nod, Niamh made sure she had her pepper spray, and then stepped off the trail into the brush.

The rock formation wasn’t that far, and after just a few minutes, they could see it poking up in front of them, coming out of the shrubbery and leaf clutter. Except for the normal sounds of the forest, the scene was silent, and Niamh frowned, turning to look at Adam.

“Maybe it’s further in?” Adam squinted, eyes jumping over the tumble of rocks in front of him, and he seemed to agree, as his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“It might have just been the hiker’s imagination.” At that, Niamh chewed the inside of her lip. That was true, she supposed, but with the way things had been lately, well…

“Shouldn’t we at least take a little look around? Before moving on?” In response, Adam nodded, and they split up around the formation. Niamh tried to ignore how handsome Adam looked under the dappled light of the forest, but, predictably, failed. After peering down into one rocky hole, she found her eyes drifting back to his form, the way his body moved so strongly, smoothly, with such purpose—and almost immediately caught her foot in a root and ended up smacking to the ground.

“Niamh?” She groaned, knowing he had either seen her fall or heard her hit the ground. She wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing.

“I’m fine, just clumsy, as per usual.” Her hands were slightly raw, but other than that, and her pride, she was unbruised. Just a bit of leaf litter and dirt on her knees, and as she stood, she bent to wipe them off. It was there, bent over, looking down, she heard the raspy rattle of scales.

Niamh froze, and then turned her head to face the rocks. From a large gap, a pair of reptilian eyes glared at her, orange and bulbous. She swallowed, not daring to move.

“Adam,” she barely whispered his name, but she heard him stop walking, and imagined that she heard the snap of his gaze falling on her. “I, uh, found the kanima.” A furious hiss erupted from the owner of the eyes, and within an instant Niamh found herself sprayed in _something_ thick and putrid. She yelped and tumbled backwards as Adam leapt over the rocks, placing himself between her and the supernatural creature. As he did so, Niamh wiped frantically at her glasses, but found her fingers clumsy and stiff where they touched the goo that coated her. “Adam, the spit—” But as she talked, the kanima emerged from its hollow, and it was _much_ larger than she had expected. Maybe eight or nine feet tall, with talons as hands and coarse stony coloured scales.

It looked like a huge, frilled lizard, with neck sails and everything, and Adam, too, froze in front of Niamh. The kanima unfurled its neck sails, was silent for a moment, and then screeched at Adam before covering him in the same viscous spit. Rather than stay and fight, he turned on his heel, scooped up Niamh, and ran.

“Why—” Just speaking was starting to grow difficult, as the muscles of her face felt numb wherever they’d been touched by the spit. But before she could even finish the word, Adam responded.

“Because I’m not a fool, and even I can’t fight that thing covered in its venom.” His running appeared more labored than before, and a tiny prick of fear stabbed at Niamh’s chest.

“What—”

“It’s a paralytic. We need to get to the warehouse. Immediately. It has to be washed off.” Niamh nodded. Or, at least, she tried to, it came out more as a noncommittal flop.

Even poisoned with a paralytic, Adam was fast, and within a few minutes they had arrived at the warehouse’s false entrance. Adam slammed his hand onto a hidden intercom and shouted into it, words slightly slurred.

“We need a decontamination shower. Nobody else approach. We’ve been sprayed with kanima venom. Liaison O’Driscoll got the worst of it.” A feeling of slight indignance crossed Niamh’s mind. The worst of it? Why was she always the one getting the worst of it? But then she and Adam were moving toward an elevator—one she had never used before, actually—and descending into the underground facility.

Inside the elevator, Adam set Niamh down and steadied her, eyes urgent. His next words made Niamh’s heart actually stop. “You’re going to need to take off your clothes.”

“Sorry, what?”

“You need to take off your clothes.” His hands left her only to yank his own shirt off and over his head, and Niamh thought she must have made a noise with how quickly she went red. Some sort of sizzling, surely. His hands went to his belt, and her eyes went wide as saucers as he unbuckled it and pulled it rapidly off. The elevator dinged, doors opening onto a sterile shower room, into which Adam ushered Niamh. Hesitantly, and very clumsily, with her numb fingers and arms, she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it over her head with shaky arms. She emerged from the fabric to see Adam stripping off his khaki trousers, and her mouth went dry to see him in just his pants. Hurriedly, in an attempt to distract herself, she slipped off her sneakers and unbuttoned the high waist of her jeans and shucked them down.

But standing in front of Adam in _her_ pants felt just as alarming as seeing him in his. Or maybe that was the weird numbing venom that was making her face, arms, hands, and neck tingle. It was becoming unclear. Adam pulled off his socks and turned, and Niamh thought she could feel a nosebleed coming. Here she was, in a bra and pants, with a naked Commanding Agent du Mortain. He slammed a hand onto a button on the wall, and jets of water flowed over them from showerheads fixed to the ceiling. As the water hit Niamh’s body, she hurriedly peeled off her now soaking wet bra, socks, and finally her pants, chucking them into a corner and very much hoping that Adam would not see how red she was.

Fat chance that was, of course. He just had to glance back over at her to point out where the decontaminants were—they really just looked like soap, but far be it from her to dispute their efficacy. That was where another problem arose, as she found her fingers still too clumsy to grip anything properly. Her glasses were fogging and dripping too by now, and in frustration, she called out for his help.

Like always, he was at her side in an instant. Gently, he removed her glasses and set them in an alcove on the shower wall.

“What is it?” Worry laced though his words as he looked her over. “Are you hurt? Is the venom still affecting you?” Niamh chewed her lower lip, and then finally, blushing, spoke in slurred words, her face still not fully cooperating.

“I cant get anything open. Too much venom on my fingers.” Adam nodded, and in a strangely husky voice, answered her.

“I can help with that.” He squeezed a small amount of decontaminant out onto a cloth and began wiping softly—almost tenderly—at her face. She frowned.

“I can barely feel it when you touch me.”

“The venom can be potent. I’m sorry. This was my fault, we had bad intel.” Under the streams of warm water, body still strangely numb, Niamh let out a small chuckle.

“You’re not the one who fell on top of the supernatural creature, Adam.” When he laughed in response, his hand slipped down Niamh’s neck to her chest—her breast, really—and her heart caught in her throat. There was a beat, a moment where she could feel Adam’s hand through the washcloth on her skin, and she couldn’t bring herself to look up into his eyes, afraid she might find embarrassment there. And then he moved, washing down her arms and busying himself away from her gaze.

Heat prickled in her body and pooled in her stomach, trickling down between her legs. God, what was _happening_? She was here, in a shower, _naked,_ with Adam. The Adam she had almost kissed countless times. The Adam she would do anything for. The Adam she had fallen hopelessly, foolishly in love with. The words _, tu omnia_ , replayed in her mind. She felt him scrubbing at her fingertips, feeling slowly returning as the venom was scoured away.

“Can you, maybe, turn around? Please?” Adam asked her, breaking her reverie. She looked up at him, and electricity ran through her body like she’d touched a live wire. He was there, in front of her, so perfect, so close, and he was—holding shampoo?

“What? Why?”

“I have to make sure there isn’t any in your hair.” The words sounded strange, and if Niamh hadn’t known Adam better, she would have thought he was coming up with an excuse for something. But she turned around, letting the water run over her head.

The feeling of Adam’s fingers in her hair nearly sent her to the floor then and there. Strong, insistent, powerful, and so gentle as they rubbed the soap into her scalp. She closed her eyes and tried not to moan too audibly, but by the way Adam stiffened behind her a few times, she feared she hadn’t quite succeeded. The moment drug on, blissful, sending sparks all the way through Niamh’s spine, and then ended all too soon.

Adam drew his hands back and Niamh had to take some time to steady herself before ducking her head back under the water, washing the soap from her hair. Adam’s hands returned to her head, rinsing out the suds, though Niamh was sure she could have done it herself—feeling was starting to return to her fingers. She turned back to face Adam, suddenly aware of how close this moment was to ending, and afraid of what would happen when it did.

“Adam I—” Heat shot through her again, when she saw how he looked at her, lids lowered, brow furrowed, lips parted slightly. He raised a hand to her hair, slick and wet, and swiped it softly from her cheek. She was dying to know if the heat inside her was burning in him, too, but she didn’t want to look away, she couldn’t look away. Eyes wide, she chewed on her bottom lip, and then, ever so slowly, placed a hand on Adam’s chest.

Something seemed to roll through his body as she touched him. His skin was smooth, hot with the steam of the shower, and she remembered the feeling of being pressed against him. Uncharacteristic boldness overtook her, and, eyes never leaving his, she moved her other hand to cup Adam’s cheek.

That appeared to be all that Adam needed to trip a wire inside of him, and in one fluid movement he had slid his hands beneath Niamh’s legs, picked her up, and pressed her against the shower wall. A gasp left her mouth, but it was quickly swallowed by his lips, burning and scorching and just so perfect. Whimpering, Niamh let herself be washed away on the feeling of the kiss, a kiss she had been waiting for for what felt like forever. The feelings that had long bounced between them all crashed together suddenly, and the aching she felt whenever she looked at Adam sharpened into a painful need.

His mouth danced on hers, teeth grazing her lower lip, and Niamh moaned into him, long and loud. Too soon, though, Adam pulled back, both of them panting for air.

“Why did you stop?” she asked before she could help herself. Adam just smiled in response, something so smooth and soft and uncharacteristic that Niamh wasn’t sure how to respond.

“So that I could do this.” Confusion fluttered through Niamh, but just as quickly as the confusion had formed, Adam was setting her back on her feet and kneeling in front of her, pressing kisses up her thighs, nipping and biting until his lips met her _there,_ and Niamh gasped and leaned back against the shower wall. Adam’s movements were slightly clumsy, skills rusty after long centuries of disuse, but the anticipation that had coursed through Niamh’s body for months more than made up for any failings. Seeing him between her legs, tongue pressing eagerly against her center, was enough to make her come undone.

One hand scrabbled at Adam’s short hair, unable to find anything to grab onto, and the other pressed up against her mouth, trying to silence the gasps, the whimpers, the moans that were leaving her mouth. He gripped her leg suddenly, and moved it to his shoulder, allowing him better access to her, and then a finger joined his tongue. Sparks danced behind her eyelids, and she was _close,_ but not quite there.

His name tore from her lips in a strangled cry, echoing off the shower walls and lost ever so slightly among the rush of the water. At the sound, Adam tore himself away from her clit to stare intensely up at her. The urge to be embarrassed crossed Niamh’s mind, but quickly vanished when Adam rose back up to his feet in front of her. His breathing was unsteady, and he smelled like her, and it was heady and intoxicating and Niamh wanted _more._ Their eyes locked as she slid her hand down his chest. Adam groaned, leaning forward, forehead against the wall, as Niamh took his erection in her hands and began to stroke. As she ran her fingers over him, wrapped her palms around him, she watched the veins in his neck tighten and throb, felt his breathing hitch in his chest, and drank in every small sound that whispered off his lips.

Only a few moments later, Adam opened his eyes and stilled her hands.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them, but he smiled and shook his head.

“Only if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she said, barely a whisper, and Adam hoisted her up again, both of them reveling in the feeling of skin against skin. Niamh couldn’t look away from his eyes as he pressed her slowly against the wall and reached down between them, angling himself and spreading her open. She wanted to see his face. He entered her slowly, both of them looking directly at each other until he was fully seated inside her. Niamh broke the tension of the moment, leaning forward to kiss him, and the urgency of the moment gave way to a tenderness deeper than any she had ever felt. Slowly, Adam began to move against her. Niamh clung to him, pressing kisses to every part of him she could reach. The feeling of him inside her was like a thousand fireworks, and now, as she thought about how wrong the mission had gone, she couldn’t give a single bloody fuck.

Adam’s breath quickened after a few short minutes, and he bent to press his mouth to Niamh’s neck, peppering her skin with kisses and bites. It had been so long since he had wanted someone like this, since he had felt comfortable enough to open himself up to another, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. But, from the way Niamh shuddered in his arms, fingers twisting against his skin and legs tightening around him, it seemed she wouldn’t, either.

“Adam,” his name left her lips like a prayer, a supplication, and the hazy look in her eyes almost stopped his heart. She moaned, head thrown back, and then again, and her whole body trembled in his arms as she unraveled. Adam pulled her mouth back to his in hunger as he thrust a few short times, coming undone within her. The kiss stretched on and on, both ignoring the need for air until it became absolutely necessary. Adam opened his eyes and, heart beating out a wild rhythm against his ribs, gazed at Niamh. Her wet hair was still plastered to her face, lips slightly swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling. Any words he might have spoken vanished from his mind as he looked into the warm brown of her eyes. He was utterly lost.

“Adam,” she said again, after a long, long minute. By way of acknowledgement, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. A small, mischievous smile crossed her lips as he looked back to her. “Tu omnia.”


End file.
